


Jealousy

by TooManyPsuedonyms



Series: Mobile Thoughts [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: ...maybe murder?, I know nothing about summer fairs, M/M, Some Fluff, some empathy, some vagueness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 08:20:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14101284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooManyPsuedonyms/pseuds/TooManyPsuedonyms
Summary: Hannibal and Will are out, enjoying a peaceful moment, when jealousy happens to occur... much to our poor empath's chagrin.





	Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal seems like a jealous and possessive type....... somewhat. At least, with Will. 
> 
> That's all this was about.

They happen to be walking down the street of some gentrified Appalachian tourist trap. It's such an innocuous occasion—just a little art fair during the late summer night. The sun's still out and it's still warm, making sweat bead along the back of their necks. Hannibal is (for once) in laid back attire, but still mostly clothed while Will gave up, opening his light flannel shirt to reveal a thin wife beater. They are strolling through canopies that are (more or less) culturally appropriated amalgamations of a Moroccan bazar and Indian light festivals. Still, children are laughing—running across the street in excitement to try adorable sweets or gaze up at wonder at intricate puzzle boxes and the embroideries hung up on display. Will was finding enjoyment, wonder, even content nostalgia around every corner—Hannibal was a cool anchor, leading him through the crowds carefully. That was until Will's ears caught the twinkling of wind chimes.

 

It was like the sound was fairy laughter, just a bit off to the side. Naturally, his head turned to the sound, and the cacophony of rainbows in the fading orange sun dazzled him. Without thinking, he moved toward the stall. Perhaps it was the childish and delightful atmosphere he was soaking in, because he warned Hannibal before not to let him get too drunk in the emotions around them as they strolled about the quaint little township. Just meaning to pass through, not planning to buy, just to... _enjoy_.

 

But suddenly, Will was entranced. The chimes were so pleasant, so soft, so pretty looking. Some were shells, some were feathers, some bamboo. Shiny, glittering, and each distinctly harmonic. Will smiled at one—antlers shaped into a twisty heart—small animal bones and bells dangling on fishing twine. How appropriate.

 

"A bit, uh, _dark_ , but I had it commissioned a few months ago," the artist explained as Will ran a finger across what was once a canine cap. Someone lost a dog, or probably, a stray was found too late. Will didn't attempt to meet the artist eyes, just nodded.

 

"Commissioned?" Hannibal spoke for him instead. Will turned to look at his companion's face, a wary frown in place. The blond was intently staring at the artist—a man who looked a cross between a lumberjack and an avant-garde wannabe. "So, it is not for sale?"

 

The man cast a quick glance to Hannibal, looking a bit nervous for a split second, but proudly pulled his shoulders back, "The client felt it too... _real_."

 

"Why ask for a bone-chime with no bones?" Will asked to no one in particularly. He as just snarking out loud. Nonetheless, he was heard, and apparently deemed humorous. The artist tipped his head at Will with a bit of a throaty chuckle. Leaning across the standing table, he plucked a fishing line so the bones clattered together. Something obscene slithered into Will's mind.

 

"You don't always find animals in the forest," he whispered. Will's eyes snapped to the artist, wide.

 

The fair faded into the background as he felt—

 

Teeth? _His_ teeth, specifically, thrumming with blood and hunger and _intent_.

 

The urge to rip into the man before him. Gouge out his eyes because _how dare he_ stare with predacious intent. How rude it was to entrap and entrance. How loathsome and vulgar—uncouth and brash. _Flaunting_ and _confident_. Will wanted nothing more than to lounge across and rip open his ugly throat, break each finger that was reaching and teasing and beckoning—

 

With a gasp Will stepped back. He instantly turned to his companion. Hannibal was glaring with darkened eyes into the unaware artist. Every atom vibrated inside Will's core and he grabbed Hannibal's hand in warning.

 

"Not interested!" Will declared, ignoring how parched his tongue felt. There was a deadly desire for a taste of tangy blood—maybe pour it into a tamarind orange for a citrus zest.

 

The artist made a disappointed coo behind them as Will fled, Hannibal stalking behind.

 

"Stop... _stop_ it! Control yourself!" Will hissed as they rounded a dark corner close to their (4-Star) hotel parking lot. A long shadow stretched into the street. Enough to hide them as Will itched to pace along an overgrown ivy path toward their honeymoon suite.

 

"My apologies, Will," Hannibal sighed, and visibly began relaxing his shoulders. It obviously took effort. His fingers danced along Will's, then ran along up forearms, "But I think his intentions were clear."

 

Will scowled and tugged away, shaking. He wanted to go inside now, away from people, maybe even away from Hannibal. "You said you'd keep me from letting the empathy sweep me away…!" the brunet harshly reminded him. He crossed his arms over his chest, slowly coming back to himself.

 

"You say you only know who are in response to me. Our reflections are—"

 

"That's not the point, Hannibal!" Will's voice rose as his anxiety did with being out in the open. "You almost had me—" he chewed off his words before he could latch his teeth into an actual person. He ran his hands over his face, feeling it flushed. "Be honest with me."

 

"I have promised to never lie to you."

 

"Did you do it on purpose?" Will asked, peering up at the other man through long lashes.

 

Hannibal stared for a moment at his pleading face before looking away, "It... was not my intent. No."

 

"Hannibal..." Will pressed, vaguely remembering he had the only key to the hotel room. Annoyed, the cannibal spread his hands wide in the air before them.

 

"It was an accident. I was--"

 

"Jealous," Will finished before Hannibal could spin the situation into some overly complex, but lovely, philosophical metaphor, "You were jealous and _you wanted to eat the competition_."

 

Hannibal remained quiet. Almost stubbornly so. Will felt torn between offering some sort of comfort and demanding an apology. But... fuck. Emotions were difficult. No one can _control_ them. People are only responsible for their subsequent actions and reactions to their emotions. So far, Hannibal was only guilty of murderous intent—not corrupting Will...

 

Well, not entirely.

 

"I..." Will started, then shook his head, "It just startled me. I thought that you'd be able to keep me from getting lost in the emotions. I didn't expect blood-lust."

 

"My apologies, Will," Hannibal moved forward and gripped the back of Will's neck with a force that was equally grounding and unnerving. He had no intentions of letting Will go, "But you do have a nasty habit of running off with unsavory characters."

 

Will have a half shrug and let his hands fall to Hannibal's waist, "I don't know about that... certain characters are more addicting than others."

 

Hannibal hummed in response as Will drew closer. Will decided to chase that sound with his own mouth.

 

... and after a satisfying night, woke to find a present hanging above the bed, chimes clinking sweetly as the smell of tamarind orange zest mixed with the breeze.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked! Thanks for reading!


End file.
